


Tomorrow Never Knows

by spacemonkey



Category: U2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 05:51:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4817504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacemonkey/pseuds/spacemonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bono is sleeping. Edge is wide awake. Set in 2015</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tomorrow Never Knows

A scar. A scar. A _scar_.

They’re neat, they’re messy, they’re old and they’re new, and Bono doesn’t flinch under the drag of his finger, and Edge doesn’t really expect him to. It’s old hat now, the cataloguing of flaws and Bono just keeps on snoring.

Edge trails a hand down his skin, down and down and can almost feel it there, feel though his lower back and into the bone, and he nearly goes further, nearly gooses his arse and he chuckles to himself and travels back on up. He finds the arm, finds the elbow, and that is newer, almost as new as the hair, and it’s all different and all the same, and he touches him there, feather light where he knows Bono can’t feel it, and he tiptoes further up the arm and holds his breath as the snoring stops.

He waits, waits for Bono to open his eyes, but nothing comes of it, nothing but the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Edge smiles and touches there, and it twitches again under the pad of his thumb. “Bono.”

He’s greeted with silence, but he watches Bono squeeze his eyes tighter and listens to the snuffle of a laugh being held back, and it’s so familiar that Edge almost feels like they’ve stepped back in time. If he thinks really hard, he can almost see the outline of ribs threatening to be hidden by baby fat, and it’s been so long and yet he feels like he can still smell the knock off cologne. They’d spent the night listening to records, and Bono had changed Bowie for Revolver, and Edge had kissed him to Taxman and pushed him against the covers to I’m Only Sleeping and he’d gone from freckle to freckle to Love You Too and Bono had been done and dusted before they’d reached the end of side one. Edge can picture quite clearly the shocked look on Bono’s face, the glassy eyes and the clear white skin, and he can still taste the cheap wine if he licks his lips the right way.

He can barely make out the scar on Bono’s chin in the dull light, under the scruff and faded, but he can see well enough the flecks of grey that cover it. There’s really not that much of it, and Edge is jealous, but he touches him there anyway with the barest of pressure and Bono breaks. He laughs and turns his face into the pillow, and his arms tighten under the material until he’s muffled so much that Edge figures he’s likely going to suffocate. “Bono.”

Bono shakes his head and he laughs harder when Edge rolls over, rolls gently onto him and straddles his hips. He pushes the sheet away from them and touches a shoulder, and he keeps it soft to not arouse suspicion before pushing Bono’s head further into the pillow. Bono bucks and snorts, and Edge backs off, but only slightly. “I have to do it, before you do,” he insists and Bono turns his head to the side and breathes.

He smiles and pulls an arm out from under the pillow and pats Edge on the thigh. “I’ll behave, I swear.”

“I doubt it,” Edge says sarcastically, but he rolls back off until they’re face to face, and Bono narrows his eyes at him.

“I was sleeping.”

“I know. I wasn’t.”

Bono sighs, but his eyes crinkle and Edge considers that a victory. “Wanker.”

Edge just smiles back, and he looks at Bono until Bono starts to fuss and pull the sheets back up around them. Edge is tempted to yank them back down so he can continue, but he knows better and he reaches over and turns off the light. He can feel Bono’s warmth and hear his breath but he can barely make him out anymore, just the dark outline and he distracts himself with stage cues and unfamiliar sequences, and Bono shifts towards him. “I was dreaming before,” he says.

“Were you now?”

“Mmm. I was dreaming of oranges.”

“Oranges.”

“I think they were talking to me,” Bono says vaguely. “Do you think that means something?”

“I think it means you’re mad,” Edge says honestly and he’s ready for the elbow that jams into his ribs, but Bono laughs long and quiet, and he sounds so worn out that Edge doesn’t say any more until Bono stops laughing, until his breath has almost evened out and Edge can’t help himself any longer. “Bono?”

“I’m sleeping,” Bono mumbles, and Edge didn’t really expect much else, but he thinks it’s fine because he already knows the answer to the question he wants to ask. He listens past Bono’s breathing until he can hear the sounds of traffic down below, and it’s faint through the hotel windows but he figures that Vancouver must be winding down. He thinks of that night, listening to The Beatles and he gets stuck on the lyrics to Eleanor Rigby and he knows that Bono would know, but he doesn’t dare ask, he just thinks and thinks and almost reaches for his phone to look it up, but the urge passes and he starts to think of Vancouver early on. He remembers Larry being underage outside a bar, he remembers Adam trying to sneak him in and he remembers Bono just laughing and laughing and yet he cannot remember himself. Bono shifts and touches his arm, and Edge jolts, just a little. “What do you want?" Bono asks.

His fingers are warm against Edge’s skin, and Edge feels drowsy and has to think really hard to remember what it was he was going to ask. It comes to him and it doesn’t feel as important now, but he asks anyway. “Are you nervous for tomorrow?”

Bono smiles. Edge cannot see it, but he knows it’s there. “Always,” he says, and it’s exactly what Edge knew he was going to say. He feels like Bono wants to say more, but he stays silent and Edge doesn’t push, just lays there until Bono’s breath evens out and deepens. He gets up then and goes into the kitchen, and he makes himself a cup of tea and sits at the table and forgets to drink it until it’s almost too cold. He’s nervous, and he worries that the stage is too thin and he worries that Bono might get lost in it all once the audience is too close and they’re away from rehearsals. He worries for Larry, but he doesn’t for Adam, and he sips at his tea and throws most of it down the sink and goes and climbs back into bed.

He’s restless, and he tries not to look at the time and then gives in, and Bono snores at his side as he googles lyrics on his phone and thinks of stage cues and chords, and he flicks on the bedside lamp and winces at the sudden light. He looks at Bono, his arm stretched out towards Edge and his fingers curled but for the last two, and he thinks of how far they’ve come.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was a short ditty inspired by fouroux, who a while back gave me this prompt:
> 
> vertigo era or later, edge watching bono sleep naked next to him and comparing him to his younger self and what changed (physically as well as how their relationship changed, maybe?)
> 
> ...I sort of used it, I suppose. I was also inspired by Bono saying how Edge says Bono thinks of his body as an inconvenience  
> And also, I just really wanted to do a fic about the night before the start of a new tour.


End file.
